


sub[boar]missive

by Erin_Leigh



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Elf, Erotica, Gay Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom, Smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Wereboar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erin_Leigh/pseuds/Erin_Leigh
Summary: My eyes flick over his face, and I feel myself shrinking under his piercing gaze. “Bristle,” I mumble in reply.“Bristle?” He chuckles. “Cute.”I’ve never felt my ears stand as tall as they do, or my spine get so rigid. “Cute?” The sound that catches in my throat is a strangled laugh and I shake my head in disbelief. “You said it yourself. I’m a pig man.”He waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “That was before I got a better look at you. A pig is a creature meant only for slaughter.” His gaze returns to mine as his thin lips curl into a smile. “You are a boar. A cute little warrior.”[request via tumblr ask box]
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonymous tumblr user](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anonymous+tumblr+user).



>   
> Fanart by [evan-housecat](https://evan-housecat.tumblr.com/post/636175118218002432/any-thoughts-on-a-big-burly-yet-subby-wereboar)

The people of the village of Danesbury aren’t bad folk. From what I understand, they’re a tight-knit community, helping each other out without expecting anything in return. It’s just me they don’t like.

I don’t blame them. I’m too different, some kind of cross between a beast and a man that no one has a name for. Most people just call me ‘pig man.’

The ironic thing is I think they’d like me more if I was actually a pig man. But I’m something else, something more like a boar, with hair, tusks, and a flat snout.

It’s not difficult keeping to myself. I’ve got an old shack someone had built and abandoned that kept me out of the elements, and a forest to hunt and forage within.

As far as a life goes, it… it’s one, technically, by definition.

In my free time, of which I have a lot, I gather fallen branches and whittle them into little animal figurines. I’m not so far gone in my isolation that I talk to them or anything; I just like to look at them.

I’m tracking a deer one day, so focused on notching an arrow that I don’t see the pit trap until I’ve fallen in all the way to my knee. Dinner bounds away as I grunt and try to pull my leg free, to no avail.

Well, hell.

Sometimes the villager’s children play in the woods. I call out for help in the hope someone might hear, and behind me I hear a chuckle. I twist at the middle to watch as a tall elven man steps out from the trees, looking at me with barely concealed amusement at my plight.

He walks closer as his eyes flick down to my trapped leg and then back up to my face.

“What do you want?” I demand in the strongest voice I can muster.

“I’m not sure,” the elf says, moving even closer until he’s looming over me. “What brings a pig man like you out into these woods?”

I feel the hairs covering my shoulders and back stand on end as I glare up at him. “I’m not a pig man! I’m…” I trail off. I don’t know what I am, exactly. My eyes dart to the side in embarrassed defeat. “I was hunting,” I finish quietly.

“Mmh,” he hums. “I could help you, but in exchange, I need a favor.”

I hesitate. “What kind of favor?”

“Oh, not now. Some things are better left unsaid. Suffice to say, you’ll be helping me for a long, long time.” His lips curl into a wicked smile.

I could just wait. After all, someone else was bound to come along. But the way he’s looking at me has me… curious. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t,” he says simply.

“Then I’m not—”

“I wouldn’t,” he interrupts, his gaze turning hard. “It would be in your best interest to do what I say. Now, nod your head if you understand.”

I blink and choke on the words that die in my throat. My head moves, almost of its own accord, while my heart beats a little faster.

“Good.” He smiles. “This will be fun.”

He offers a hand and I snort involuntarily. He’s tall, sure, but he’s more like a willow than an oak, and I’m more like a rock than a tree. But he arches his brow, and I clasp his forearm in my much larger hand.

To my surprise, he lifts me up with ease. I can feel the muscles flex and tense beneath his tanned skin. We stand there a moment, and it’s only then that I get a good look at him in the light filtered through the trees.

He’s taller than most people I’ve met, with the pointed ears and angular features elves are known for. His eyes are large and brown, with long eyelashes—almost feminine. His expression is open and playful, though his smile holds a hint of something darker.

I wonder if elves are always so pretty. There aren’t many in this land, and none of them have ever stood so close to me.

My snout twitches as I breathe in the smell of something floral, a type of flower I’m not familiar with.

Is it possible for a flower to smell dangerous? Because the one in his scent does.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when the elf squeezes my arm where his hand still rests. “I’m Voron Soulthorn.”

My eyes flick over his face, and I feel myself shrinking under his piercing gaze. “Bristle,” I mumble in reply.

“Bristle?” He chuckles. “Cute.”

I’ve never felt my ears stand as tall as they do, or my spine get so rigid. “Cute?” The sound that catches in my throat is a strangled laugh and I shake my head in disbelief. “You said it yourself. I’m a pig man.”

He waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “That was before I got a better look at you. A pig is a creature meant only for slaughter.” His gaze returns to mine as his thin lips curl into a smile. “You are a boar. A cute little warrior.”

I stare at him in silence. I’ve got no words, nothing that can be said that will make this situation make any more sense.

“Now, come with me. You’ve had quite an ordeal and look like you could use a drink.”

My gaze drops to the ground and I chuckle, a little nervously. “The people of Danesbury don’t… really want me around. But I appreciate the offer.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” he says with an incline of his chin that gives the impression he’s looking down at me, even though I’m taller.

I blink a few rapid times as I look back up at him. “Oh, uh… then… I guess, I don’t have a choice?”

Smiling, Voron shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

He turns in the direction of Danesbury and gestures with an absent wave of his hand for me to follow. While I have the freedom to just turn away and walk in a different direction, I don’t.

Like he said, I don’t have a choice.

The tavern we walk into is a rough place, full of burly miners and farmers arguing over games of dice. As soon as I step through the doorway, all eyes turn to us. To me. Voron could walk in here without a second glance.

Everyone knows I exist, of course, but it’s always been pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome unless I had something to sell or barter.

Voron raises an eyebrow as he looks back at me. “What?”

“I don’t exactly fit in,” I admit in a quiet mumble. “I should just go.”

“Ah,” he says with a nod. “You’re a coward.”

With that, he turns away from me and walks to the nearest table. He pulls out a dagger from his boot and buries it into the wood. “Oi!” he calls out to the room at large. “If anyone has a problem with him, I’ll give them a worse problem to worry about. Are we all clear?”

Several miners glare at me, but Voron’s gaze makes them avert their eyes and go back to their drinks.

Voron sits down at an empty seat, beckoning me to do likewise.

I swallow nervously as I sit next to him. “You didn’t have to do that,” I mutter, hunching my shoulders to make myself smaller.

“Of course I did,” he says, waving a hand toward the bartender. “I take care of my property.”

I nearly pull a muscle in my neck from whipping my head to look at him. “Property?” My ears swivel back and I grunt. “Excuse me?”

He laughs. “Oh, come on, you’re not that daft. We had a deal. I saved your life, you owe me.”

I grip the edge of the bartop, not sure what else to do with my hands as they clench. “You helped me out of a hole! That’s hardly saving my life.”

His head turns, and his eyes are hard again in a way that makes it hard to breathe. “Call it whatever you want. You’re still mine until I say otherwise.”

I should protest. I still have the ability to walk away, just as I did before. My leg is sore, but it’s not broken or even really that hurt.

But I don’t.

My grip loosens as I let go of the counter entirely and sit there, head bowed to stare down at my lap.

What is wrong with me?

He notices the change in my demeanor and chuckles. He pats me on the back as the bartender walks over with two mugs of something that smells foul.

My snout wrinkles, lips peeling back as I recoil from the smell. “What is this?”

Voron just laughs and knocks it back in one go. He orders another round before I’ve even touched the first one. I watch as he does it again, so I try to do the same. It’s too pungent to sip at; chugging seems to be the only way to get it down.

I just can’t seem to refuse him. There’s something in the way his eyes pierce through me when he commands rather than speaks or asks. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something I can’t disobey.

I snort with laughter as the room starts to spin. Oh. This is what being drunk is like. I’m not sure it’s as unpleasant as I always thought it was.

“I should…” I brace my hands on the counter. “I should g’home.”

“Yes, you should.” Voron smiles at me, seeming to be entirely unaffected by the alcohol. “Do you need an escort?”

I shake my head, then frown as the movement makes the room spin faster. “I can get—get home… fine…”

He nods. “Of course you can.”

I’ve barely taken a step when the room disappears and is replaced by swirling darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

I awake with a start, sweat matting my hair, sprawled on my own bed. My head pounds as I try to sit up, a much worse version of the headaches I get when the seasons change. There must be a wicked snowstorm coming soon.

With some effort, I stumble over toward the kitchen against one wall and freeze when I see someone sitting at the table.

I squint at the figure, a beautiful elven man who seems out of place in the middle of my small, humble, kind of worn-down home.

The stranger looks up at me with a smile. “Ah, you’re awake! I was beginning to get worried just sitting here, waiting. How do you feel?”

I rub my temples to ward off the splitting headache, then drag my hand down my face and over my snout. “I’ve had better days,” I grunt.

He chuckles. “I imagine so. You’ve been… indisposed for most of the day.” He looks up at me with a twist of a smile. “You should be more careful. You’re fortunate that I’ve taken care of you rather than advantage of you.”

I blink in surprise. “What? Why would you take care of me?”

He smiles, folding his hands over his knee. “Because I take care of what’s mine.”

I jerk back as the memories of yesterday hit all at once. “I—” I can’t stop the nervous chuffle that rumbles in my throat. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

He stands and strides over to me. “You do now.”

I’m not used to anyone talking to me this way.

I’m not used to anyone looking at me this way.

I’m not used to any of this.

And it both scares and excites me.

But there is something in the back of my mind that scratches at me until I avert my gaze and ask, “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

He chuckles and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “Do you want me to pick someone else?”

I shiver involuntarily at the gentle touch. I stare at him, trying to read his expression. He’s hiding something behind that enigmatic smile of his. “I… guess not,” I admit quietly.

“Good.” He pulls away and returns to his seat. “Sit down. It’s time we discuss that favor.”

I frown and trudge over to the seat, plopping down and leaning against the table. “Okay.”

He smiles and leans forward, interlacing his fingers. “So, you’re mine.”

My frown deepens. “We’ve covered that. I don’t understand why you want me, though.”

His eyes flicker over my face as if to soak in every boarish feature. “It’s simple. We can both agree that you are what most consider a ‘monstrous’ race, yes?”

I flinch at the word and look away, but give the slightest nod.

He sighs, hands moving to his chin. “You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“Why not?” I glance at him and the wall. “Monster isn’t a good word.”

“Perhaps not to you.” His smile shifts into something dark and exciting. “When I saw you, stuck and helpless, I only thought one thing.” He makes a gesture toward my lap. “His race must not be the only monstrous thing about him.”

I feel my skin grow hot beneath the thick hairs and I sit up straight, staring at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m talking about your cock.” He folds his arms and tilts his head to the side. “I would wager that it’s big. Monstrously so.”

I just stare at him in disbelief.

His eyes flick down and his smile grows. “Well, it looks like I was right.”

Looking down myself, I see the distinct outline of my growing erection. An embarrassed, high-pitched noise escapes me as I quickly cover my lap with both hands and hunch forward. “I don’t—I’m sorry, I—”

He laughs, and this time, it almost sounds sincere. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. It’s…” He smirks. “Exciting.”

I look up at him, and he shrugs one shoulder.

“What can I say? I like what I like, and I believe I’m going to like you very, very much.” He sits back in his chair and gives a little waggle of his fingers. “Go on. Show me.”

I suddenly wonder something I’ve never thought about before.

What if I’m not particularly well-endowed? It wasn’t like I’ve had a lot of opportunities to compare. For some reason, I find myself more worried that I won’t measure up to his expectations than the fact that I’m in this situation.

And at the same time, I wonder what might happen if I do.

My hands fidget for a moment before they start to undo the laces of my breeches. I glance up at him as I hesitate one last time, just in case this is a trick, just in case I can discern anything in his expression that would give away ill intent.

But there’s nothing there except eagerness and excitement.

So I suck in a breath and reach in to fish myself out, bracing myself for his disappointment.

Even in the dim light, I can see his gaze drawn to it like a moth to flame. “Whoa.”

Emboldened by the look in his eyes, I wrap my fingers in a tighter grip around the base and give a tentative tug. “Is it—”

“Yes,” he breathes, “it’s perfect.”

His eyes flutter briefly closed and he bites his lip. He shifts in his seat, hooking one leg over the other as he settles in.

I’ve never considered myself an exhibitionist, but the way he’s looking at me—with hunger and desire warring across his face—is doing a lot for me. It makes me want to do things I’ve never even thought of before.

My hand moves at a slow pace as I experiment. I watch his eyes as they follow my every move. When I give a little twist of my wrist, he sucks his lip between his teeth. When I speed up, I can see a red flush creep onto his cheeks.

And when I let my legs fall to the sides and rock my hips to meet my hand, he starts to clutch his hands against his knee so hard his knuckles go white.

I let my head fall back as I start to lose myself in my own pleasure, each sensation heightened by the knowledge that he’s transfixed by me. I tighten my grip and start to move faster, little puffs and grunts escaping my throat.

Then he makes a small, choked noise, and I realize he’s actually trying to stave off his own needs.

For some reason, that really does it for me.

I slide down off the chair to sit on my knees at his feet. “What do you want?” I ask, breathless, looking up at him as I continue to stroke myself.

His eyes are glazed over and he’s panting softly, pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Slowly, he licks his lips, taking a moment to gather himself before he stands. He undresses slowly, never breaking eye contact. Then he pulls my hand away to place it on his hip as he settles on my lap.

I suck in a quick, sharp breath. “You can’t intend to…”

He smiles. “Can’t I?” He shifts his hips and brushes his lips against the tufted hair along the curve of my jaw. “Don’t be shy. You want this, too.”

I let out a shuddering breath. His weight on me is surprisingly grounding, and his proximity intoxicating. I can feel his heart thud against my chest.

“I want to feel all of your focus and attention on me.” His words are accented by soft little moans as he grinds against me.

Carefully, I hold onto his hips with both hands and start to press against him. He throws his head back and his hands clench the fabric of my shirt.

“More,” he murmurs, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

I try my best to hold back, afraid of hurting him. I push in just the tip and back out again, my muscles aching as I strain against my primal desires.

He lets out a breathy sigh and looks down at me with half-lidded eyes. “Stop holding back.”

“But what if I hurt you?” I ask, my legs trembling.

His parted lips twitch briefly into a smirk. “Thatʼs part of the fun.”

I clench my teeth as he lowers himself down until the curve of his ass is flush against my thighs.

“Oh, yes,” he pants and braces his hands against my shoulders, fingers splaying and flexing with every movement of his hips.

I may be the one inside him, but he is the one in control. Every sound from him sends tingles through me, like a limb had fallen asleep and was coming back to life.

I gasp when his hands move to grip my tusks, using them to brace himself as his movements become faster, more desperate. He drops down hard and hoists himself back up, rocking and holding on tight.

“So good,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

I try to meet him with my own thrusts, but he pulls on my tusks in silent reprimand.

I’m not going to last much longer. Not when he is riding me like I’m a beast of burden, and I’ve never been more excited to think of myself as such.

I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, driving into him as a long, low grunt rumbles from somewhere deep in me. I feel him shudder in my arms as he reaches his own orgasm. He clings to me, whimpering desperately.

I hold him close as my breathing slowly evens out. He leans back and looks up at me, his face red and his hair a sweaty mess.

He’s absolutely beautiful.

I slowly slide out of him, and he winches slightly.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

I glance down at the mess on my stomach and thighs, my hair matted and sticking out at odd angles.

“Mmh.” He kisses the top of my snout and carefully climbs off my lap. He goes over to the sink, where he rummages around for a rag and dunks it into a bucket of cold water meant for washing dishes.

He comes back and gently wipes away the sweat and… I flush, not sure what’s mine and what’s his.

He does the same for himself, then drops down to sit on one of my thighs and nestles against my chest.

It’s almost startling at how small and delicate he seems now.

“So…” I start, but then trail off.

He looks up, brow arched.

I swallow. “Is that… it? Was that the favor you wanted?”

He throws his head back with laughter. It goes on a moment longer before he grabs the nearest tusk and forces my head to tilt back as he hovers over me.

“That was only the beginning,” he says, his voice low and his eyes dark. “As I said. You’ll be helping me for a long,  _ long _ time.”

**Author's Note:**

> ❤️ Thank you for reading! Every kudo means the world to me.  
> 💬 Want to connect? [I'm on Discord!](https://discord.gg/yK8Q9dDY7r)  
> 📚 Are you a Kindle Unlimited subscriber? [I have ebooks!](https://amazon.com/author/erin-leigh)


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